Authors: Robin D. Owens
Blue squirrel paws pushed the covers away, and Alexa found herself
looking into bright black eyes. Sinafin clasped her paws together.
PLEASE,
Alexa.
"Your colors are off. There aren't any blue squirrels."
Alexa rolled over.
She thought she dozed.
The baby cried. She shoved away fluffy comforters and half slid,
half fell to the floor. Her bare feet missed the rug and jarred against cold
stone. She swore.
Come, come, come!
Sinafin, a golden ball,
dipped and swooped, then vanished through the closed door.
Hopping from foot to foot, Alexa dragged on knit slippers that
were warm and cushioned her feet from the stone floor. She muttered curses. In
English. She hadn't learned enough Lladranan to know any good local swears.
What was it
now?
A person couldn't even barricade herself
into her room for a little shut-eye.
NOW, Alexa!
Sinafin—a neon purple bat—screeched in
her ear and zoomed through the door again. Over her nightgown, Alexa whipped on
a quilted robe that trailed on the ground, and rushed across the threshold—
And was jerked short when her robe stuck in the door. No infant
was near. She heard a wail—would they leave the baby on one of the narrow
landings? Surely not.
Follow me!
cried Sinafin.
Gritting her teeth and taking precious time to open the door and
grab the robe, Alexa knew she
really
needed those swear-words. She ran
through the Tower room, down and down and down endless stairs following a
flashing neon purple bat into the Cloisters. It was dark and raining again. Not
twenty-four hours after her arrival in Lladrana and she was charging to the
rescue again. Didn't a savior ever get a little downtime?
Apparently not. Sinafin led her to the huge oak door of the
circular Temple. Were they trying to teach the baby to swim again the hard way?
Alexa hated being manipulated by the Marshalls. But was this their work? The
door opened easily under her hand and she rushed into the dim room.
Sure enough, Sinafin hovered by the end of that nasty pool as a
large golden glow, flickering and fluttering wildly, as if trying to keep
something out of the liquid.
Alexa's heart pounded and she peeled off her robe. Sucking in a
big breath and whimpering inwardly, she dove into the pool.
Pain dimmed her mind like a lowering curtain. She fought against
it, gritting her teeth to keep from opening her mouth in a scream and
swallowing the stuff. The liquid slid against her, like it was measuring every
inch of her before seeking each tiny wound to torture—She came up against
someone hard.
It wasn't a baby this time. It was a big guy. Well, normal for
them,
but big to her. Apparently he'd made it into the pool, but not out of it.
Alexa could understand that; the liquid gnawed at her bruises and sent biting
pain along scratches. She vowed to never,
ever
pick at her cuticles
again.
Thrusting her head above the liquid she gasped and thrashed to
hold the limp, heavy limbs of the man. She sensed Sinafin trying to help,
taking part of the man's weight.
Her nightgown tangled her legs, she floundered, slipped and sank,
found her feet and tried again. Grunting and swearing she managed to roll the
man out of the pool, but sank again before crawling out.
He lives!
Sinafin caroled in relief.
Just as Alexa surfaced and opened her mouth to ask something
instead of heaving a breath, Sinafin turned into a purple bat with golden wings
and streaked from the chamber—through a closed glass window this time. As she
did so she made the sound of a wailing baby.
Alexa allowed herself to collapse on the floor. She'd been had! By
her own...what? Mentor? Sidekick? Friend?
After a few minutes the marble floor, though warm, felt really
hard. Alexa rocked to her hands and knees, then stood and wobbled. Until she
saw him. Then she was struck still and dumb with pure admiration.
Wow! Only the dim crystals in the rafters and the glowing gemstone
crystals in a rainbow on the altar lit the room, but it was enough. He lay on
his back, the outline of his muscles flickering wet and golden-hued. Alexa
swallowed hard.
She took a step forward. Broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips,
muscular thighs—she bet he had a killer butt—nice calves, long elegant feet. Oh
yeah.
Naturally she looked at his sex. She was a red-blooded American
woman, wasn't she? And she had to make sure that the people of Lladrana were
like people at home. She peered a little closer and gulped. Yes, his parts were
like those of the men at home. No, it didn't look like he was hurt there at
all—but otherwise...
Just seeing the scars on him appalled her—new red welts, some
slices that looked like they had come from the same sort of monster who'd
attacked her. His body was a map of colorful bruises, scratches and circular
raised bumps that made her think of leeches. She shuddered. He had a big, nasty
puncture close to his, um, jewels that made her wince and shift from foot to
foot.
She was warm and safe here, as was he, but how was she going to
get help?
She eyed the gong and bit her lip. It was near the altar with
those jewel-crystals and other magical stuff. She really didn't want to touch
it.
"Sinafin?" she whispered.
No answer.
Alexa studied the studly guy again, this time making it to his
face. She frowned. He looked a little like someone she'd seen before, but she
couldn't place the resemblance. Nice jaw, good straight nose. Eyes heavy-lidded
and tilted up at the corners. Soft, mobile lips.
Soft, mobile lips? She was losing it. Time to get her act together
and see if she could help the man, but at least his wide, lightly haired chest
rose and fell steadily.
Then she noticed something else. Unlike every other adult in
Lladrana, he didn't have black hair or black hair with silver or gold streaks
at one or both temples. No, the flickering light gleamed on his striped
black-and-white hair. She stared. The baby had black-and-white hair like that
too. Did they ritually drown those? She knew in her bones it must mean
something.
His lids opened and she stared into deep brown eyes that slowly
focused. He opened his mouth and started coughing. He stirred, moaned, then
subsided again into unconsciousness. But his breath turned steady and deep.
The door pushed open and cold air swept around her, plastering her
nightgown to her body. She whirled. A skinny teenager holding a tray and a
pitcher stared openmouthed at her. She narrowed her eyes. He had that
electric-blue outline that several of the Marshalls had had that morning. She
glanced back at the man lying by the pool—yes, there was a slight electric-blue
tint coating him.
She looked at her own hands. They radiated blue. Then she saw her
own body, fully revealed by the thin, wet nightgown. She
looked very white. She made a sound like "Eek"—a
girly sound, she thought in disgust—hurried and snatched her robe.
"Voulvous? Vu?" The boy's voice rose in a question.
Alexa forced her lips into a grin, flopped a hand in what she'd
intended to be a wave, and wobbled past the boy to the door. She'd done what
Sinafin had wanted. Alexa didn't plan to hang around for questions she couldn't
answer.
The man groaned behind her. She quickened her pace. The teenager
frowned, then set the tray down and ran to the man.
Alexa slipped out the door and into the cloister walk. Silver rain
fell tinkling around her, then sputtered into droplets and subsided into a soft
patter.
Once back in her room, after showering—another pain, since some of
the jerir penetrated her scratches instead of sliding from her body—Alexa was
restless. She went to the windows to look out, and saw blackness over the
fields. Her tower was one of the four large round Towers of the Castle Keep,
but no one lived there except herself.
She dressed in leggings, a shirt and a long tunic, then she paced.
Though the weather had cleared and brilliant stars shone in the
night sky, there was only the faintest luminescence where she knew the Town
should be. No use going to the Town, since she wasn't even familiar with the
Castle. The thought of walking alone down the hill to the Town daunted her. She
shivered as the memory of the night hike she'd taken in Colorado flickered in
her mind's eye. She'd been crazy, spellbound, grief-stricken—maybe all three.
She noticed the swaying white branches of the beautiful large tree
in the garden below. Concentrating hard, she heard the soft murmuring of the
tree's Song, which spoke of contentment and spring and growing and destiny. The
strains came too quietly to grasp and the melody was such that she wanted to
listen to the
whole of it. Or maybe she just had cabin fever and
wanted out. She drew her heavy, warm purple cloak around her, then slipped from
her room and down the stairs.
Everything was quiet.
Hesitating, she cocked her head to get the tree's direction. With
slow steps she followed the tune and found herself before a small door that
would let her out of the Keep and near the garden. She opened it, and air laden
with humidity and the rich secrets of night-growing plants wafted to her. As
she inhaled, more notes joined the rich orchestral symphony. She exited, and a
few strides later faced the tall hedge maze. Perfectly groomed, it stood a good
fifteen feet high, dense and dark and green-black.
Still the tree Sang, and it Sang
to her.
She could almost
hear it Sing her name. She pulled her cloak close and the cowl low and threaded
her way through the maze by sound instead of sight. Low bird chirps accompanied
the soft tread of her own footsteps.
A few minutes later she exited the maze at a right angle from
where she had entered. There was a small lawn, then an old, low wall of stone
with a little door that looked to be just her size. She smiled and walked to
it, put her hand on the cold handle, pressed the latch and pulled, expecting an
awful creak. The door swung silently and easily open.
The moon had risen while she'd been in the maze and now painted
the garden in silver light. A profusion of bushes with stark branches of
various shades of gray and black were all tangled together as though the garden
wasn't well tended. Most of the Lladranans would have to stoop through the
door.
But the white tree lifting graceful branches into the sky was the
only life taller than the wall.
A bench circled the tree, and she picked her way through dead
leaves along an overgrown path toward it. For a moment she hesitated, then slid
her hands up and down the trunk, feeling the bark,
smooth in some spots, rough in others. Tree-song enveloped
her and she sat on the bench, leaning against the trunk.
She didn't know how long she rested there, her busy mind quiet,
experiencing the tree's melody, imbued with serenity. It lilted of sap rising
through it slowly, slowly, of the anticipation of each bud pushing through bark
and unfurling tiny leaves, of the reaching of its branches and how it danced
with the wind and the sky and the Song.
There you are!
Sinafin said, the hint of a
scold in her voice.
She was still the purple bat. In the recesses of her mind, Alexa
knew she should be upset with the shape-changer, and there were questions she
wanted answers to, but being in the tree's presence had made all her questions
seem less urgent, as if she were measuring time more slowly now. So she just
stared at the purple bat and admired its wings.
Sinafin hung upside down from a near branch and gazed at Alexa.
Even this wasn't too disconcerting. She was operating on tree-time, with
tree-serenity-philosophy still pulsing around her.
The shapeshifter whiffled, eyes bright.
You like the
brithenwood tree, very good.
Why? Another question that should be more important than it
seemed. Only one concern rose to her mind.
"I'm here to make new fenceposts to defend Lladrana?"
She'd culled that from Sinafin's mind-movie of the night before and the talk
amongst the Marshalls in the Temple after she'd been taken to bed like a kid.
But within the peace of the garden the spark of irritation failed to flame.
Yes.
"Tell me of the fenceposts."
They are the primary defense of Lladrana, made by Guardian
Marshalls during the last true invasion of horrors, about eight hundred years
ago.
Before my time. Since then we've had only little groups sneaking
over. And the frinks. They are new in the past two years.
"I'm supposed to discover how the fenceposts are made and
remake them?" Alexa wanted to be clear on this point.
The bat stretched its wings, so transparent that some stars shone
through the tissue-skin.
Yes.
"How?"
The Song will guide you.
Alexa hadn't heard voices yet. "How?"